


House of A Thousand Chases

by Silvarbelle



Category: Xiaolin Showdown
Genre: M/M, shenanigans abound
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:41:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24894088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silvarbelle/pseuds/Silvarbelle
Summary: In an ironic turn of events, Chase Young is depending on Jack Spicer to get him back where he belongs - all six of his counterparts.
Relationships: Jack Spicer/Chase Young
Comments: 26
Kudos: 153





	House of A Thousand Chases

**Author's Note:**

> I'm gonna start moving my fics from DeviantArt over to here. I'm starting with this one! On DA, it's known as HofaTC Parts 1 and 2 because of title restrictions. No such problem here. Anyway: while I'm transferring, I thought: "Go ahead and tidy up any bits that need editing!" Hopefully, it reads less clunky now.

Jack Spicer was a very tired twenty-year-old.

He'd been at an all-night party, but it wasn't a rave or anything that a person his age would enjoy; wasn't something wild and exciting and rowdy.

No... He’d been at a _business_ party.

The party had been in Chongqing, and had been scheduled at the last minute. With both Mr. and Mrs. Spicer out of the country, there was no way they'd have arrived in time for the party – yet, it had been quite the opportunity to schmooze with various business acquaintances and contacts, and set up new trading contracts, since Chongqing was the major inland trading port; transporting goods from the southwestern provinces to eastern China.

Jack, who had given up on the Shen-Gong-Wu hunt and had stopped screwing around years ago, had learned enough of his family's spice business to make an adequate substitute.

At around five in the morning, Jack was finally on his way home. Fortunately for him, the Spicer Estate was just on the outskirts of Chongqing and thus he didn’t have far to go.

He was tired, but he had no intention of dozing off in the car. The limo driver was new and he hadn't had time to vet the man's background. Since he had no empirical evidence that the new chauffer could be trusted, Jack wasn't about to leave himself vulnerable.

He spent the time tapping away on his phone – first E-mailing his folks a report of the party and a list of contact numbers and possible new contracts, and then playing a few dozen games.

As the sun began peeking over the horizon, the limo arrived at the Spicer estate.

Jack nodded his thanks to the driver when he got out of the car. Since the man worked directly for the Spicer family, Jack had no need to hand off a tip right then, but the man would find a small bonus in his next paycheck.

As he walked up the stairs to the front door, Jack was already unraveling his tie. He opened the collar of his dress shirt and deliberately mussed his hair, which had grown a little longer and thicker. It brushed the tops of his shoulders and framed his face pleasingly.

Or so that one, coy old dame had told him over her tenth drink of the evening.

The door opened before he got there and he grinned tiredly to see one of his robots.

"Master Spicer," said the robot courteously.

"JB-30... have a good evening?" he asked casually as he walked through the front door of his house. He handed the carry-case to the robot as it shut the door, knowing that JB-30 would put it where it was supposed to go.

"Not entirely, Master. There's been a complication."

Jack went still with a frown. "Complication? It isn't my parents—?“

His concerned query broke off immediately as someone walked into the hallway.

"Chase? What _happened_ to you?" Jack asked, horrified. 

The usually long, thick hair was cut short; shorter, even, than Jack's, and there was a scar going down diagonally through the middle of the man's face – from the left temple to towards the right cheek.

A cold smirk flicked across the warlord's face.

And then, to Jack's surprise, _another_ Chase entered the hallway.

And then another.

And another.

By the time the procession had stopped, seven different Chase Youngs filled the foyer, and all of them were staring at Jack intently.

One of the Chases – and this was _his_ Chase, Jack _knew_ it was him even though he was one of _three_ wearing the familiar armor – stepped forward.

"As you can see, Spicer," drawled the dragon-lord, " _we_ are in need of your assistance."

Jack Spicer glared darkly at the group of subtly anxious men before him and said a Very Bad Word.

*~*~*~*

Jack sat on the bar stool of the kitchen island, clutching a mug of hot chocolate spiked with a small splash of butterscotch liqueur. He’d never had a head for alcohol and he wasn’t about to make himself sick and vulnerable _now_. He left the mini-bar in the kitchen open invitingly and glared at the seven Chases that filled his kitchen.

"Alright, what happened?" he grumbled even as a Chase dressed in jeans, T-shirt, and a black leather motorcycle jacket headed for the mini-bar and poured himself a bourbon straight.

Jack would have had the story by now, but after that first greeting, he'd sidestepped into the parlor and exited the door at the other end – neatly bypassing the group – and had gone straight for the kitchen.

Now, four of the Chases began speaking at once, only to stop and glower at each other.

Jack made a sharp whistle between his teeth and they all looked at him.

He pointed at the Chase that belonged in _his_ reality. "You."

Chase raised an eyebrow, but nevertheless began speaking.

"I created a new spell that would allow me to draw power from my counterparts in alternate realities," said the warlord smoothly. "It works much on the same principle as the Sun Chi Lantern. I would borrow the energy and strength of my counterparts for a limited amount of time as needed, and then release my hold on the power."

"Transcendental power boost…? Nice," commented Jack.

"I thought so. The monks are becoming stronger and I wish to have an edge. However... there was a glitch."

Jack looked around at the other six Chases, and then back to his own with an expression that said: _No-o-o-o-o-o-o... you don't say?_

Chase scowled at the albino man. "I was experimenting with the spell, making the first full-fledged attempt to draw the power from the alternate realities. However, the monks had somehow managed to infiltrate my home and they chose that precise moment to attack. Omi tagged me with the Cube of Haniku."

"Creates an ironic situation for the person it’s used on." Jack looked again at the Chases. "Instead of drawing their _power_ , you drew _them_ , since the spell was still going when you were tagged."

Chase dipped his head in a silent affirmation.

Jack propped his elbows on the countertop of the kitchen island and scrubbed wearily at his face. Then, he folded his arms on the countertop, and looked at them all.

"And you expect me to pull a miracle out of my ass, is that it? There aren't any Wu that'll send you back – not even the Golden Tiger Claws – and so you're here to have me whip up some kind of trans-dimensional thingy to get you all back to your respective realities."

One of the... gentler... seeming Chases frowned as soon as the word "ass" left Jack's mouth.

Chase nodded. "Yes. I was angry when the accident occurred—“

"We _all_ were," retorted another Chase that looked exactly like Jack's except that the man’s attire was different.

This Chase wore the same armor, only it was in different colors: black and red instead of green, black, and brass. All of that and, in addition, he was draped in a battle-robe of black and silver, lined with red, and open from the throat to the middle of the torso.

Jack liked that this was a Chase wearing colors that resembled _him_.

"Not all of us were angry," said a short-haired, soft-spoken Chase who was dressed in homespun blue. "Startled, yes, but not angry."

"So we noticed," growled the wicked-looking Chase with the facial scar. "We would have _had_ those blasted monks had you three not interfered!"

The Chase dressed in monk robes that seemed to be somewhere in his forties straightened slightly.

"We couldn't allow you to murder them," he said solemnly. "They were simply doing their duty to fight evil."

"You mean sneak up on it and perform the equivalent of popping a firecracker off to rattle 'em," said the jeans-wearing Chase, and it was this one that Jack focused on.

The man had short hair, but it was straight and slicked back against his head. His ears were human-round and the pupils of his eyes were human-round as well, instead of the slit-pupil that Jack was familiar with.

"What's your story?" asked Jack.

The "civilian" Chase shrugged. "Hell if I know, man. I was mindin' my own business, racing my bike, and bam! I'm here, with all of these other yutzes, all of 'em yellin' about some stupid glowing toys and might makes right and all that other shit. I don't care – I just want to go home, where everything makes sense. If you can do that, you're my fuckin’ hero. If not... then I might as well start lookin' up the want ads for an apartment."

Jack wanted to laugh. Not because of this Chase's so-modern way of speaking and behaving, but because of the horrified looks on the other Chases – as if they couldn't comprehend being someone who didn't know or care about the battle between Xiaolin versus Heylin.

“Where are you _from?_ ” Jack asked. “You talk like _I_ do.”

“Earth, dude,” said the biker with a grin. “Specifically: America; grew up there, but I’m in China for some racing.”

Jack nodded. “Makes sense.”

He drank some of his chocolate, and then grinned at the “civilian” Chase.

"I can do it," he said calmly; "sending you guys back to your respective homes, I mean. All I need to do is modify my old time machine. That'll take a day or so. Scan all of you to match you to your proper realities and then, zip! You're gone."

Chase smirked coldly. "Are you so sure you want to trust yourselves to a machine built by Spicer that sent Omi back in time – though the architect of the machine forgot to build in a return function?"

Jack straightened up in a flash and shot a dark, cold glare at the dragon-lord.

Chase's eyebrows went up in surprise.

"First off: _none_ of these guys _want_ to return!" snapped Jack. "They wouldn't have been here _at all_ if _somebody_ around here hadn't decided to frig around with trans-dimensional physics!"

"He's got a point," said the alternate Chase that looked very much like the original.

"Secondly: you know what? If _that's_ the way you wanna play it, I don't even want to play. If you're so smart that you can build a spell to transfer power, then you're smart enough to build an interdimensional bridge to get 'em all back where they come from – on your own."

"That will take months!" growled Chase as he stood up from the stool he'd been perched on, his body tight with anger.

Jack smirked at him. "Cry me a river, pal. You didn’t just shoot yourself in the foot – you blew your whole damned leg off, Chase. So stick that in your dragon soup and _suck on it_."

With that, he got up and stalked out of the kitchen, intent on heading for his suite.

He was just starting up the stairs when he heard a deliberate step behind him and his name being spoken.

Jack turned and found that one of the alternate Chases had followed him and was standing at the base of the stairs, looking up at him expectantly.

"This is a switch," laughed Jack humorlessly. "Usually, it's the _other_ way around."

One eyebrow flicked up, but the expression on the beautiful face was amused.

"Oh, yes? It makes sense, doesn't it? After all, I am about to ask you to reconsider not helping us. I can imagine the rough handling you've received from your Chase—“

"He's not _mine_ ," snapped Jack resentfully.

The warlord paused for a moment, and then continued smoothly. "—from _this world's_ Chase, but I would like you to consider what a _disaster_ it would be to this world to have more than one Chase Young in it. No matter what side of the fence we're on – or simply straddling it, as the... ah... modern version indicated earlier – _all_ Chases are true to their nature which is, at the core of it: greedy and territorial. Those of us who are evil wish to rule the world. That world will not exist if there's more than one of us here, even if it's a good Chase that remains, for both versions will reduce the world to a burned cinder before they'll cede one centimeter of it to the other."

Jack looked at the man standing before him for a long moment. Then, he looked away; over the head full of thick black hair to one of the tasteful _objets d’art_ that decorated the hallway behind Chase.

"He'd have tried to gaslight me with some stupid dig at my pride in my skills," said Jack quietly. "The ol' reverse psychology bit, y'know?"

The alternate Chase shook his head. "A stupid gambit. You have already proven, theoretically, that you know what you're doing and can get it done."

Jack laughed; a bitter, strained sound. "'Chase' calling himself stupid... if that don't beat all."

They were both silent, then: Jack thinking about it and Chase allowing him that time without interruption.

And then, the original Chase stepped into the hall; silent and ethereal and so beautiful he made Jack's body hurt just from looking at him.

The man said nothing – only looked up at Jack and waited without a clue on his face as to what he was thinking, his arms tucked neatly behind his back.

Jack came to an abrupt decision. "Fine – I'll do it. I'll get them all home. And after that... _after_ that, Chase, I don't ever want to see you again, got it? Anymore clusterfucks you wind up in: you either go to the monks, or any of the other geniuses out there, or you fix it yourself – but you don't come to me. I've had it. I'm _through_ with being your punching bag."

The alternate Chase glanced at his counterpart, waiting.

The original Chase continued to look up at Jack for a few more moments. Then, finally, he said, "When this is over: I will not harass you again, Jack Spicer."

"Thank you," said Jack coldly. "I'm going to go take a quick shower, grab a snack, and then I'll be in my workshop. It's a far cry from the leisurely soak, hearty breakfast and the nap I'd planned to take, so be appreciative of what I'm doing for you. Or the other yous, that is."

With that, he spun around and went stomping up the stairs, pulling off his suit jacket as he went.

The original Chase glanced over at his alternate counterpart in time to see the man's gaze fixated with warm intent on the sight of Jack's firm, round backside; the muscles flexing beneath the cloth of the albino man's trousers as long legs powered the irate genius up the stairs.

Then, Jack disappeared from view and the alternate Chase turned to meet the original's diamond-hard, ice-cold gaze.

A sweet, condescending smirk, and then the alternate walked away to get some breakfast of his own.

Chase made a low, horrid sound. He glanced up the stairs and thought, briefly, about cornering Jack in the younger man's rooms.

Instead, he uncrossed his fingers that had been hidden behind his back when he’d made his promise, forced himself to calm down, and decided to go exploring the Spicer mansion.

*~*~*~*

By the time Jack made his way downstairs again – dressed in a ratty old sweatshirt, his favorite jeans, and his favorite tool belt slung around his hips – the Chases had dispersed through the house.

He followed the sounds of classical music and found two of the Good-Chases communing with Mozart, and left them to it.

He next followed the sounds of animated conversation and electronic beeps, bleeps, and zapping noises. In the game room, he found that the Indifferent-to-Good-or-Evil Chase and the scarred, short-haired Evil-Chase had located his Playstation 4 and were playing some of his games. Jack’s mind boggled for a moment at the sight of Chase (in any version) playing a video game, but left it alone and moved on.

Stopping in the kitchen, he checked the fridge and found some left-over fried chicken drumsticks. He grabbed those, a 2-liter bottle of Cherry Vanilla Coke, and headed down to his lab.

Only to stop short at the sight of Chase and his Evil Twin poking around the room, investigating various projects.

"Nice of you to invite yourselves in without asking," he growled, still very cranky.

The alternate-Chase turned to grin at him. "You should know that we don't ask anyone's permission, Jack Spicer – we take what we want."

Jack snorted and put his food on the corner of his worktable. "I'm well aware of it."

"Then why are you so crabby?"

Jack's eyes widened. He looked to the man who was dressed in the black, silver, and red battle-robe.

After a moment, he snickered quietly. "I'd never have expected to hear you using words like 'crabby'."

The alternate-Chase smirked. "If the shell fits..."

Even as he rolled his eyes, Jack couldn't help laughing. This version of Chase looked very similar to the one he knew, but was far more playful and easy-going... nice, in a strange sort of way... than his world's Chase. He was quite charming and Jack liked that.

There was a low noise, almost too subtle to be a growl, and then Chase appeared by Jack's right arm and glared past the albino man at his doppelganger.

"If you're finished flirting with the boy, perhaps it's time to leave him alone so he can get to work on sending you back where you came from?" suggested Chase icily.

One eyebrow cocked up on the look-alike's face even as Jack whirled around and poked Chase's chest armor with a wrench.

Over the sound of metal-hitting-metal, Jack snapped, "I am not a _boy_ anymore, Chase! If anyone wants to flirt with me, then they can! I don't _care_ if you're disgusted at seeing a version of yourself enjoying my company – if you don't like it, then get the hell out so I can get this done that much faster!"

Gold eyes narrowed dangerously. A moment later, Chase had a tight grip on both of Jack's arms and had flattened the young man down onto the worktable.

Leaning down so that his face was close to Jack's, he enjoyed the fast breathing borne of anxiety; the wide, crimson eyes.

"I am aware that you are angry at me for my callous treatment of you, Spicer," he murmured, and felt Jack shiver as his breath puffed against the pale lips, "but I _will not_ tolerate you speaking to me so _disrespectfully_. If you cannot maintain _pleasant_ tones when speaking to me, then you will _not_ speak to me. Am I understood?"

He knew Spicer had received the message loud and clear by the way the red eyes darkened with anger and narrowed slightly, and the way the white lips flattened into a thin line as Jack nodded once, shortly.

"Excellent," he growled amiably, and lifted away from the irritated young man. 

Tucking his arms at the small of his back, Chase wandered over to watch a live news video feed on one of the flatscreens in the lab.

The alternate-Chase made no move to help Jack up, knowing that the gesture wouldn't be appreciated. Instead, he watched as the albino genius stood straight once again and angrily began rummaging through tools and spare parts while barking at his robots to bring out the disabled time machine.

"Do you require any help at this time, Spicer?" asked the alternate-Chase courteously.

Jack shook his head, still narrow-eyed with anger. "Not right now. I'd actually appreciate it if the both of you would just get out of my hair for a while."

The look-alike tilted his head in a nod of acquiescence. Turning, he walked gracefully away without another word, climbed the metal stairs up to the exit and let himself out.

Chase paused once to look at Jack for a long moment without speaking before he, too, disappeared upstairs.

Jack let out a ragged breath and began to get to work even as he dictated notes to his Jackbots.

*~*~*

Hours later, Jack was jolted out of his work by the smell of something hot, greasy, and wonderful.

Pulling his head out of the innards of the giant, computerized ring that was the old time machine, Jack turned in search of the source of the smell.

And found one of the Good-Chases standing by his worktable, holding a small plate with a few strips of bacon, and smiling.

The short-haired, blue-robed Chase smiled pleasantly and bowed. "Good morning, Jack Spicer. One of our brethren has displayed a talent for cooking a decent meal. We would like it if you'd join us upstairs."

Jack felt his skin crawling at the sight of a Chase Young being so... sweet.

"Oh, yeah?" he hedged belligerently. "Why should I? If I take time off to eat, this won't get finished that much faster."

"You will also not do yourself or us any favors if you pass out from manly hunger," the good-natured monk teased gently, with a gentle wave of the plate that didn't dislodge the bacon. "I brought a test sample of breakfast for you in the hopes it would convince you to join us."

"One: shouldn’t it be lunchtime about now? And two: stop being so _nice_. I'm not used to it and it creeps me the hell out, alright?" grumbled Jack as he stomped forward and snatched at the bacon. "I don't care how good this is: if I feel like eating, I'll grab a banayo sandwich and eat while I work."

A confused look crossed the Good-Chase's face. "What is... banayo?"

Jack smirked and crunched down on a piece of bacon. His mouth watered at the perfect texture and flavor, but he said around his mouthful, "Banana slices on mayonnaise-slathered bread."

Dark brown eyes widened and a look of horrified revulsion washed over the youthful face.

"That is the most disgusting thing I've ever heard!" squealed the monk, clutching at his stomach.

"Not as gross as seeing Chase acting like a frigging pansy," groused Jack. "Just... go away, alright? If I come up, fine, if not... just piss off, already."

The monk frowned as he regained control of his squeamish guts. "I was under the impression that you were not allied with this world's Chase Young."

"So? Just because I'm not workin' with him doesn't mean I'm not on the bad guys' side," retorted Jack, and he smirked. "I'm the son of business leaders. Altruism is not in my genetic make-up."

The Good-Chase sighed. "This is true. Very well; I'll inform the others not to expect you."

"Who's doing the cooking?"

"The indifferent one among our group... the, ah, 'civilian', I suppose you could say. Your Chase has graciously shared his dragon-soup among his evil counterparts." The monk grinned. "It was most amusing to see the civilian Chase turn slightly green at the thought of consuming such a meal."

Jack laughed. "I can't blame him. Although, really, it's the onion and frog parts of it that gross me out."

The monk-Chase shook his head. "For me: it is the killing of an innocent, venerable creature simply to sustain one's own life."

“Really?” sneered Jack. “Tell that to the bacon you had for breakfast.”

“Pigs are not dragons. They are meant to sustain life!”

“For Chase: dragons _are_ pigs.”

“Despicable!”

"And that is why I am so very, very glad that Chase was smart enough to take the offer when he did," said Jack meanly, "because the thought of Chase Young never becoming a grand warlord and martial arts master, surviving to this very day, is enough to make me want to curl up in a ball and cry."

"Oh? Because of your affection for him?" retorted the monk coolly.

Jack's eyes widened. " _What_ affection? The guy pisses me off every time he opens his mouth!"

The monk grinned. "If everyone stopped loving each other the instant harsh words were exchanged, the human race would have died out by now."

"We probably should have," muttered Jack.

"Spicer—“

Jack shook his head. "Just... go away, alright? I'm very busy and important."

Good-Chase bowed. "As you wish." 

He silently departed.

Jack stuck the last rasher of bacon in his mouth and simply held it, tasting the rich flavor.

"Wish _my_ Chase would do that once in a while," he mumbled around his mouthful, and went back to work.

*~*~*~*

Jack groped for the needle-nose pliers hanging from his tool belt. Just as he located them, though, he also touched on the fingers of another hand.

The hand was resting on his right hip, over which the pliers were hanging.

Losing his grip on the red and blue wires he'd twined together, Jack straightened quickly and spun around, angry and anxious.

"Chase! What the hell are you—? Oh." He deflated, sighing roughly, and wiped his arm across his forehead in relief. "Sorry; wrong one."

The Chase that so closely resembled the one living in Jack's world raised an eyebrow, and then gave a slow smile.

"Does that mean that had you known it was me, you'd have let my hand remain there?" the warlord murmured flirtatiously.

Jack snorted and grinned back. "No. But, you're not the one I'm pissed off at, so I'm not about to throw a hissy-fit about it." Snagging the pliers from his tool belt, Jack caught up the hanging, twined wires, and began tightening and crimping them together in preparation for laying them neatly in the machine.

"Oh, yes?" Chase shifted to stand so that his hips were braced against a nearby worktable, and crossed his right ankle over his left; his arms over his chest. "Do you want to explain why?"

"What's there to tell?" grumbled Jack. 

His arms were up over his head, the long and lean muscles corded with tension as he worked. It was testament to how often he'd performed such actions that his arms never trembled and his fingers never faltered in their quick rhythm of twist-splice-tuck. 

"He's spent the last _three_ years _ignoring_ me after he spent _four_ years using and abusing me. I'm fed up with it. End of song."

Chase watched the young genius work. After a moment, he looked away; taking in the sight of Jack's workshop. He knew it ordinarily would have been called an "evil lair." Apparently, that had gone the same way as Jack's affection for this reality's Chase.

"No..." he said slowly. "No, I don't think that's the end of it. All that you're willing to talk about at the moment, perhaps, but not the entire story."

"So?" growled Jack. He twitched slightly; clearly irritable. "You don't need the story to get back home."

Chase laughed quietly. "No, I don't, young Spicer. I was merely curious. I, too, had a Jack Spicer in my land."

At that, Jack stopped and turned to look at the alternate-Chase. "Oh, yeah? Where is he?"

The dragon-lord met crimson eyes unflinchingly. "He is dead, Jack."

As those lovely crimson eyes went wide in shock, Chase calmly strolled away.

Jack watched the alternate-Chase leave the workshop, and then turned slowly back to his project.

His fingers worked automatically as he tried to wrap his mind around the fact that, somewhere in the universe, he'd already met his end.

*~*~*

"Is there any particular reason you're skulking about?" Chase asked with cool, biting precision.

He knew his closest counterpart was smirking behind him.

"Yes. I want some information."

"Really. You should know that I will not give up my knowledge so easily."

The alternate-Chase looked at his doppelganger, sitting in meditation several feet off the ground, and snorted.

"Cut the mystical omniscient dragon crap, Chun-Da – it will not work on me," he sneered.

The alternate-Chase laughed openly, long and loud, when his counterpart toppled to the ground with all the grace of a sack of potatoes.

Chase, furious at the strike his dignity had taken, was up on his feet quickly and settling into a stance that would allow him to attack fast if he wanted to.

"And you think that mocking me is going to cause me to bare my—“

"— _soul?_ " interrupted his doppelganger with a sinister shark-smile. " _Hardly_. I thought perhaps I might jolt you out of that stuffy rut you seem to have locked yourself into, Chun-Da. What is the _point_ of eternal life if you spend it as a grumpy old man?"

"I am not," snarled Chase heavily, "a 'grumpy old man'!"

"Really? Can't prove it by me – and I _am_ you."

"You are not _me_ ; you are a _version_ of me from another plane of existence."

"Semantics."

The alternate dragon-man considered the suggestion for a moment, and then inclined his head slightly. "Very well – given that you are the original of this world."

Chase curled his lip. "Thank you."

"Alright, then, here is my question: Why do you torment your Jack rather than take him to bed and prove your mastery over him by reducing him to a panting, sweaty wreck that screams your name in ecstasy?"

Once again, the alternate-Chase gave into his hilarity and laughed at the look on his counterpart's face.

A few moments later, he got control of himself and hurried to catch up to the other Chase, who was stalking away as fast as his legs could take him.

"Wait... Chun-Da, wait!" he called out, and wasn't surprised when the other man ignored him. "Chase, stop! I didn't mean to insult you!"

Chase whirled and came face-to-face with his doppelganger.

"Yes, you did," he said very, very softly. "You asked the question with honest curiosity, yet you did it in such a way as you knew would offend me."

"I did, yes," agreed the alternate just as softly. He leaned in so that their spiky forelocks twined and tangled together. "Because I cannot stomach the sheer idiocy I see before me."

"What do you mean?"

"Do not play ignorant with me, _huài dàn!_ " hissed the visitor. "You know what I mean!"

"Pretend I don't and spell it out for me."

A low growl. "Very well, Chun-Da – I am talking about Jack Spicer. I am speaking of the fact that there is a brilliant, beautiful, passionate young man who is _ripe_ for the plucking, and you sit on your old ass doing _nothing_ about it!"

Chase shoved away from the living copy of himself. "Do not spit vulgarities at _me_ , Dragon! I do not have to take it from you!"

"That is the great thing about being Chase Young – we don't have to take it from anyone _except_ us! How do you manage to meditate if you can't be honest with even a facsimile of yourself?"

Chase growled horribly.

"You stand there, evading the question _and_ the answer! What is wrong with you that you do not appreciate the excellence that your Spicer is, even at such a young age?" roared the alternate-Chase.

"You don't know a thing about this world's Spicer!" snarled Chase in reply.

"As close in resemblance as _we_ are, it is no stretch of the imagination that our Jacks were most likely very similar as well. Mine started out as a bumbling, incompetent fool. As he grew older and matured, his mind lost that chaotic hyperactivity and he began to improve – more so as I took him under my wing."

Chase's eyes widened slightly. "You took him...? At such a young age...?"

The alternate-warlord snorted and stepped away, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Not as you're thinking, Chun-Da. I knew that by accepting him, I would be setting us on that path towards such a thing. First and foremost came strengthening Spicer so he would be able to survive such a joining."

Chase's eyes narrowed as he, too, crossed his arms over his chest. "Did he?"

"...No."

A soft snort. "Then, it is pointless to ask me such a vile question when you know the outcome!"

Gold eyes narrowed and burned with an inner fire. "Idiot! It was not _I_ who destroyed him."

Chase's eyes widened again. "Then, who...?"

"That doesn’t matter. What is: is. My _only_ solace is that we had forged a deep, emotional intimacy.”

The alternate-Chase whirled, suddenly, and the original found himself flattened to the ground under the speed and fury of his doppelganger's pounce.

"This is why I don't understand your _idiocy_ ," the alternate-Chase hissed angrily into the other man's face. "You are _wasting_ a precious opportunity to acquire a lover who has the capacity to admire you and adore you until the end of days – and you are doing _nothing_. I would not have believed Chase Young capable of such stupidity."

The alternate-Chase let go; wrenched up and away, and glared down at his counterpart.

"Not without having seen it for myself," he spat, and then, he was gone.

Slowly, Chase sat up from the flower bed he'd been pounced into. Fortunately, it wasn't the rose bushes, and only a few pansies had given their lives to the pseudo-wrestling match.

He finger-combed purple and yellow petals from his long, luxurious hair, and stared narrow-eyed toward the direction in which his doppelganger had departed.

_You must truly believe me an idiot if you think I cannot sense your interest in this world's Jack Spicer,_ thought Chase quietly. His eyes narrowed. _And you are even more foolish if you think I have none for him myself. I'll be keeping an eye on you, brother. No one is going to steal Spicer from me – not when he has finally matured enough to be interesting!_

Deciding that the scent of the crushed flowers was pleasant enough, Chase decided to continue his meditation where he'd been knocked down. Closing his eyes, he crossed and folded his legs, curled his fingertips together, and concentrated.

A moment later, he was hovering neatly a few feet off the ground; immersed in the flow of his lava-hot thoughts.

*~*~*~*

“Spicer.”

“Mm.”

“Spicer…”

A low noise that didn’t really mean anything as Jack continued scribbling on a pad of paper.

“ _Spicer!_ ”

The full-throated roar of his name right beside his ear startled Jack badly. He flailed, yowling, and fell off the stool he’d been perched on. Landing with a whump on his back, he barely kept his head from cracking off the concrete floor, and winced at the bruising he could feel already forming on his back.

He glared up at the Chase that stood over him; glaring back down at him. It was the Evil-Chase with the short hair and the ugly scar across his face.

“How close are you to being finished?” growled the scarred warlord.

“A lot _less_ closer than I was, now that you’ve interrupted me,” grumbled Jack, and he started to get to his feet.

Only to find himself slammed back down to the floor by Chase’s foot stepping down hard on his chest.

Jack gasped, winded and in pain, and then went utterly still; trying to keep himself alive by using submissive body language.

“Do not speak to me so disrespectfully, _worm_ ,” rumbled the scarred man coldly. “I will not take such insolence from a Spicer.”

Jack stared up at the man pinning him down and felt a chill sweep through him at the pure and violent hatred in the man’s eyes. He swallowed roughly. 

“The Jack in your reality did that to you?”

The foot pushed down a little harder and Jack winced as he felt the threatening creak of pain from his ribs; a warning that they weren’t going to take much more abuse.

“He proved himself to be the most dishonest coward in existence!” snapped Chase. “I _greatly_ dislike being forced to depend on you for assistance, so I will say this only once: _Do not_ think to use this as an opportunity to harm us. If you do—“

“I won’t!” growled Jack angrily, baring his teeth. “I don’t know what you did to _your_ Jack that made him lash out at you, but _this_ Jack just wants all of you to get the hell out and _never come back_.”

Fangs were bared in a gruesome expression of intended murder. Jack tensed, ready to fight as much as he could—

“Brother.”

The scarred warlord froze. He continued to glower down at Jack, who glared right back – refusing to back down.

The Chase that belonged in Jack’s reality – whom he was beginning to think of as “Original-Chase” – slowly approached, his arms down at his sides; ready to fight if need be, but not inviting it.

“Is there a reason you are attempting to sabotage the return to your world?” murmured the host dragon-lord.

“I do no such thing, brother,” retorted the scarred man without taking his eyes from Jack. “I am merely _warning_ this disgusting piece of trash that he had better be on his best behavior – or _else_.”

Chase’s gold eyes narrowed as they looked at the short-haired alternate. “I understand your dislike of Jack Spicer, but I must ask you to not abuse this one. I would have you all go home sooner rather than later.”

The alternate Chase finally looked to his host self and hesitated. Something in those gold eyes promised horrific violence if he continued his actions.

Carefully considering his options, the scarred warlord finally decided that not having this squealing worm beneath his foot injured was the more efficient choice to make in achieving his long-term goals.

Moving slowly, he peeled his foot away from Jack and set it on the floor. Then, he glared down at Jack and snarled, “You know what I expect of you. Try not to screw it up – as you _always_ do!”

It was on the tip of Jack’s tongue to say something pithy, like “Bite me, Scale-rot!” but a quick movement to his right caught his eye. When he looked over, the Chase from his reality was giving him a tiny shake of the head along with a very intense warning look to keep his mouth shut.

The scarred dragon-lord stalked past his host self and up the metal stairs. A moment later, the heavy door slammed shut with a loud bang. The few Jackbots that were hovering nervously about flinched and clapped their metal hands to the sides of their metal heads, creating a discordant sound.

Chase gave the robots an irritated look, and then turned his attention to Jack. He walked over just as the young albino man sat up, coughing lightly.

“Why didn’t your mechanical pets leap to your defense?” he asked curiously.

Jack gave the man standing over him a narrow-eyed glare. “Because I haven’t _yet_ got around to revoking the order to not attack Chase Young.”

Chase’s mouth quirked into a half-grin. “How terribly sweet of you, Spicer, to put such an order in place at all.”

“What can I say: one too many kicks to the head.”

Chase laughed quietly. “I don’t doubt it.” 

He held out his hand to Spicer, offering a hand up.

Jack eyed it warily, but finally took hold of the offered hand and let Chase pull him up onto his feet.

“Thanks,” he grunted, and swatted the imaginary dust from his pants. There wasn’t anything on the blackest-black jeans; Jack was almost obsessive-compulsive about keeping his lab perfectly clean.

“Do you realize you’ve been working for nine hours straight?” inquired Chase conversationally.

Jack looked at the warlord – and was slightly startled to realize, for the first time, that they were the same height now. 

Coughing again, he cleared his throat, and then shrugged. “I’m not surprised. Whenever I get caught up in a project, I go until I drop.”

“I’d rather you didn’t. When was the last time you had refreshment?”

Jack thought about it and said, “Uh… one of the monk-Chases brought me some bacon.” 

Before he finished speaking, his stomach rumbled.

Chase cast a disparaging look at Jack’s belly. “That was six hours ago.”

Jack rolled his eyes. “What are you – my nanny? I’ll eat eventually!”

“Why not eat now? Seeing as how you’re on an unofficial break,” challenged Chase with a smirk.

The younger man closed his eyes for a moment; quite obviously struggling to control his temper. A heartbeat or two later, he squinched open one eye and glared at Chase. 

“If I agree, will you stop nagging me?” Jack demanded.

“As you will have agreed, then there won’t be any point to continue the nagging.”

“Let me rephrase that: If I agree, will you leave me alone?”

Chase considered it. Finally, he said, “After you’re finished eating, I’ll leave you be for a while. I would like to join you so you may tell me what progress you’ve made.”

“I don’t report to you.”

A cold shark-smile. “Call it scientific curiosity.”

Jack sighed and rested his forehead in the palm of his hand briefly. “You are _such_ a nuisance.”

“Call it payback for all those years of _you_ being a nuisance to _me_.”

Jack aimed a narrow-eyed glare at him. 

Chase smirked silently.

“Fine!” Jack bellowed. He threw his hands up, spun to snag his notepad off the table he’d been working on, and then stormed past the warlord. “Don’t just stand there – come on!”

Abruptly, a hand buried itself in Jack’s hair and yanked him backwards. He cried out in pain and staggered backwards, dropping the notepad as his hands curled into fists; ready to fight back.

“What have I told you about the proper way to speak to me?” Chase asked coldly.

Jack growled, low and horrid. “If you don’t let go of me, I’m going to order the Jackbots to destroy everything related to the project.”

“Then the Scarred One will have no reason to restrain himself.”

“ _I don’t care_.”

Chase blinked at the tone in Spicer’s voice. The younger man was absolutely serious.

Just as Jack was opening his mouth to give the order, Chase released him and he had to wind-mill his arms swiftly to remain upright. Once he regained his balance, he whirled to face the warlord angrily.

“I’m _not_ that creepy little weakling you _used_ to know, Chase! Not anymore,” he said viciously. “You are _not_ going to be able to push me around!”

“Going to fight back, Jack?” asked Chase with a raised eyebrow.

“I already have,” snarled the younger man. He bent down to pick up his notepad and turned to walk away, but paused. 

Visibly struggling against his pride, Jack turned back to Chase and said stiffly, “I’m sorry for snapping at you so rudely.”

Chase grinned; a large, smug smile. 

“Thank you,” he replied in a tone that was purely gracious; meant to antagonize.

Jack made a strangled noise, but only turned again and walked up the nearby stairs.

Still grinning smugly, Chase followed silently after.

Once they were in the kitchen, Jack tossed the notepad onto the kitchen island and continued on towards the refrigerator. As he opened the ‘fridge door, he asked, “You want anything?”

“No, thank you,” replied Chase as he took a seat on one of the padded stools and pulled the notebook to him. “Hmmm… a dynamic model?”

Jack pulled himself out of the refrigerator, his arms and hands full of foodstuffs, and stared wide-eyed at the Heylin lord. “You know what a dynamic model is?”

Chase smirked. “Only slightly. Magic is, after all, more of an exertion of will paralleling a petition of the supernatural energy field to part with some of itself. But for those of us who like to plan things ahead of time, rather than simply wing it, a little bit of theorem work doesn’t hurt anything. I have much better luck at keeping track of it all if I use _my_ formulas rather than the ones used universally by you modern scientists.”

“So, are you able to follow the differential equation?” asked Jack, carrying his foodstuffs over to a long marble counter and setting them down.

“Not really. I might if you put it into what is known as Taylor coefficients.”

Over at the counter, as he put a sandwich together, Jack wondered to himself how unfair it was that Chase had actually increased his desirability by displaying a bit of knowledge about theoretical physics.

Chase continued looking at the scribbled equations. Finally, he set the notebook aside and watched Jack move at the counter. Sitting perfectly upright, no slouch present, he crossed his arms over his chest and his right leg over his left at the knees, and took in the calm, un-chaotic movements.

“You’re not as hyper as you once were,” he said quietly. “You seem more at ease in your own skin.”

“I am,” was the simple reply. “Ashley offered to change my pigmentation with her biogenetics knowledge, but I would rather be an albino. For one thing, I can’t trust her to do right by me and for another… I like being me.”

A small curl of a smile. “I’m glad to hear it. You’ve—“ 

He broke off as Jack turned and walked over to the island table, carrying a plate in one hand and a brown bottle of Yanjing beer in the other.

“What is _that?_ ” he asked, his tone horrified.

Jack sighed. “Please don’t get on my case about the Yanjing. I can handle one beer and besides, there’s no minimum on a drinking age in China.”

“Not the Yanjing – _that_.”

Chase was pointing at the candy-apple-red, thick, slightly curved food item on Jack’s plate.

Jack looked down and grinned. “Oh, _that_. That’s a Kool-Aid Pickle.”

Chase stared at Jack. “Excuse me? I don’t believe I heard that correctly.”

“Oh, yes, you did,” said the albino man with a smug tone. “It’s a Kool-Aid Pickle. Quite the rage in the Deep South part of the United States. Dill pickles marinated in Kool-Aid for a week!”

The dragon-lord made a face that suggested he was about to barf up four feet of long intestine. “That is _revolting_.”

“So you say until you try one. Look… I _know_ you’re a candy freak. You _must_ have had Jollyranchers candy, right?”

Chase nodded slowly with a wary look.

“Same principle here; Kool-Aid sweetness with pickle sourness. Sweet and sour. Get it?”

“You turned a pickle _red!_ ”

Jack laughed. “Yes, I did. Although the blue and the purples are the other eye-catchers. Yellows don’t do much except give the pickle a lemon-lime look and oranges only turn the pickle close to brown.”

Chase’s expression went a bit more horrified.

Heroically fighting back uproarious laughter, Jack managed to offer, “In fact, would you like a blue or purple? The blue comes from ‘Berry Blue’ mix and the purple is grape-flavored, and called ‘Purplesaurus Rex’. Kind of fitting, since purple is the color of royalty and a T-Rex is the ‘King Lizard’ and, well… there’s _you_ being all half-dragon and lord of all you survey—“

“No.”

Jack paused and looked at Chase closely.

“Just… no,” said the warlord through clenched teeth.

Jack fell off his stool laughing.

When he finally dragged himself back up onto his seat, he nearly broke down into giggles again at the fuming stare Chase was leveling at him.

“Sorry, sorry…” he gasped, and wrapped his arms over his stomach as he fought down another round of giggles. Holy fuckeroonie, his face hurt from grinning so much. “I never in my life would have thought I’d ever see you grossed out by something – let alone _that_ grossed out!”

“At least there’s no way you can top it,” muttered the dragon-lord coldly.

Remembering the reaction of the monk-Chase that had brought him bacon, Jack grinned slyly and said, “Unless I tell you about my sandwich.”

Chase gave the younger man a slightly panicked look.

“Banayo: mayonnaise slathered on bread with banana slices squished between to make a sandwich. Bananas and mayo – banayo!”

Chase groaned a nauseated sound and dropped his face into his hands and shook his head slightly.

Jack was still screaming with laughter when the “civilian” Chase stepped into the kitchen.

“What’re you howling like a gin-chimp for?” he asked curiously, and then looked at the host Chase. “And why is he mooing?”

Jack choked at the description of Chase’s groaning and nearly suffocated trying to get his laughter under control.

The civilian Chase looked at Jack’s plate and his eyes widened. “No way! You guys have Kool-Aid Pickles here, too? Fuckin’ A, man!” He looked pleadingly at Jack. “Got anymore?”

Silently, unable to speak, Jack waved at the red pickles jar on the sideboard, and then the refrigerator.

The alternate Chase glanced at the jar of red pickles, made a face, and turned to the ‘fridge. “Red ones are too sweet for me. I don’t mind the strawberry-kiwi, but I want my KA Pickle to look weird, too.”

He opened the ‘fridge, hunted around, and let out a whoop. “ _Purple!_ Score!”

Jack was almost as red as his pickle by then and Chase was staring through slightly spread fingers; fascinated at the display this modern doppelganger was making.

The short-haired man in jeans and a motorcycle jacket backed out of the fridge and kicked the appliance door shut. He had one long, fat, purple dill pickle in one hand, and another in his mouth.

Just… sticking right out, obviously holding on with lips and teeth.

The civilian Chase sauntered out of the kitchen, waggling the hand-held pickle at Jack in a silent thank-you.

Chase, who had turned to watch his counterpart go, slowly turned back to face the albino man.

Jack, with tears streaming down his bright-red face, his mouth stretched wide in a grin, let out a ripping snort and said, “Guess… Guess this makes him—“

“— _DON’T_ —“

“—a _Purple Pickle Eater!_ ”

“ _GRAH!!!_ ”

Jack fell off his stool again.

Chase saw nothing wrong with banging his forehead on top of the island table’s surface repeatedly.

Long, long minutes later, Jack had finally gotten himself under control – not barring the occasional giggle-snort every time he took a bite of his red KA Pickle – and was explaining the accomplished bits of the project to Chase.

“…So, now that I’ve plotted the points in space and time—“

“Theoretically,” countered Chase, his tone sniping. He still wasn’t over the pickle debacle.

Jack nodded. “Right. Well, I’m going to load that data into the program for the device. It will mathematically compensate for space as well as time. Of course, I have to scan each of the alternates as well as you.”

“Why?”

“Well, you as the base comparison. You’ll stand on a sensor plate and diagnostic devices will read your biosignature; your personal energy levels. I’ll tag that reading as the ‘alpha’ designation for the program to run against so it can keep everything nice and neat. See, the Chases will match their respective realities; part of everyone’s biosignature is made up of a bit of the place they live because they’ve imprinted on it or vice-versa. Those Chases… mmmm… _taste_ , for lack of a better word, like their realities, just as you ‘taste’ like yours, in so far as a scanner is concerned. Once I have all of the biosignatures loaded into the computer, the device will begin searching through time and space for duplicates to match those signatures.”

“Which it should be able to do if you’ve done the math correctly,” drawled Chase as he caught on.

Another nod. “Right. The sensor plate stuff… that’s stand-alone of the project. It already exists. The project doesn’t have to wait to be completed for that. I’ll work on the programming while the bots finish splicing and dicing. All I need is for you seven to stand on the sensor plate, let the diagnostic scanner read all of you, and load it into the computer.”

“You’ll do the software construction while your robots handle the hardware construction.”

“You got it. I’ve already done the sensitive stuff; the wiring and motherboard replacements and all that delicate finger work. The heavy, broad-piece stuff, the Jackbots can handle without a problem.”

Chase lifted an eyebrow. “Then, you were correct: this really isn’t all that difficult for you.”

Jack snorted and finished his banayo sandwich before answering. “I could practically do it in my sleep; don’t think I haven’t been tempted.”

The dragon-lord smirked. “Yes, I had noticed the dark circles under your eyes. It’s almost as if you’re wearing that dreadful make-up again.”

The albino man scowled. “I’ve been up for almost three days straight. I _had_ planned on taking a long, cozy nap when I got home from that business dinner party, but no-o-o-o-o-o… _someone_ just _had_ to go frigging around with transdimensional magic spells at the most inopportune time.”

“The instant Omi touched the Cube of Haniku, the very nature of the Shen-Gong-Wu set in motion the events that led up to the lot of us coming here. After all: is it not ironic that after all the times I pushed you away and called you inadequate, worthless, and a general waste of time that I come to you now, seeking your help?”

Jack flicked his fingers dismissively. “Okay, point for you.”

Chase was about to add something further when one of the Good-Chases walked in.

“Hello,” said the short-haired man dressed in homespun blue tunic and trousers. He offered a polite bow and didn’t seem to take notice of the instant, bristling revulsion both men before him displayed. “How is the project progressing, Jack Spicer?”

“The project took a little break so I could re-fuel – if that’s alright,” said Jack snidely.

The good-natured man nodded and turned to go.

“Wait!” said Jack imperiously, and the man-in-blue turned back to face him. “Where are the others?”

“My monk brethren went to the Xiaolin Temple to speak with the monks there, courtesy of your driver and mechanical conveyance. The scarred one is watching something on a square box in the parlor; the warrior in battle-robes is performing tai chi in the west garden, and the, er, modern one among us is in the room that holds the rest of your mechanical conveyances, trying to figure out how to—“

Jack bolted past the man in a fast sprint; quickly enough that the short, silky black hair fanned out around the man’s head in the breeze of Jack’s passing.

“—start the vehicles,” finished the Chase of Jack’s reality with a huge, fang-baring smile. 

Standing, he decided he wanted to see this bit of payback, and quit the room without acknowledging his Good doppelganger.

The good-natured man watched his evil counterpart go. Then, sighing, he moved to begin tidying up the kitchen.

*~*~*~*

Hours later, after Jack and the civilian Chase had had a shouting match about respecting the sanctity of another man’s vehicles versus level of skill that made it okay to take one for a joyride, Jackbots had been sent out to retrieve the various Chases; informing them that Master Spicer needed to speak with them about the project.

The individual Chases made their way quickly towards the center of the house and congregated in the hallway leading to Jack's lab at the same time.

"Y' think it's finished?" asked the civilian Chase around his cigarette. 

He’d _needed_ one after discovering how fast a motorcycle that had been “souped up” by Jack Spicer could go.

"It had _better_ be," growled the scar-faced Chase as he snatched the cigarette from his counterpart's mouth and crushed it. "I'm tired of hanging around this dump!"

Rather than become offended, the indifferent-Chase simply shrugged and stuck his hands in the pockets of his jeans and walked among the others towards the door to the lab.

In short order: the seven Chases had assembled in the lab and were facing Jack.

"It's almost finished," Spicer said without preamble. "Well, the actual device is still being worked on—“ He waved his hand, indicating the Jackbots working on the large metal ring— “but the program is all put together. What I need from all of you is to stand on that pressure plate."

He pointed to a metal platform on the floor near the device.

"Your bioenergy signatures have to be scanned, analyzed, and processed, or you can't get home," he said, and paused for a jaw-cracking yawn.

"And once we're scanned in, then do we go home?" asked the scar-faced Chase coldly.

Jack shook his head and blinked. He was so tired that his eyelids felt like sandpaper scraping across his delicate eyeballs.

"No. The information has to be sorted and given an algorithm and a bunch of other mathematical and physics concepts that I'm not going to go into right now. It'll take several hours, so I'm just going to give it a full day and catch up on my rest so I won't make a mistake when it's time to send you home."

"If it is largely the work of the machine—“ asked the middle-aged, long-haired monk-Chase in gray and blue armor. "—then can you not simply let the machine do its job?"

Jack yawned again and stretched. 

"If something goes wrong – not likely, but if it does – then I need to be there, fully awake and functioning, to counteract it," he said as he relaxed from the stretch.

"Spicer has spent nearly a full twenty-four hours working on this project non-stop," said the original Chase abruptly. "This – on top of being awake for days taking care of other duties. It is not asking so much to allow him time for catching up on his rest, rather than risk losing yourselves in limbo by demanding that he work through his fatigue."

The alternates looked amongst each other, silently conferring. Eventually, the monk-Chases began nodding slowly.

"What you say is true, brother," said the short-haired monk. "Speaking for myself: there are a few errands I wish to get taken care of before I leave."

The other alternates made noises of agreement, stating that they, too, had errands to run.

"Very well," said the Chase that belonged in Jack's world. "Spicer will take his rest while the lot of you do whatever it is you need to do."

He turned, then, and looked at Jack. "Go, Spicer, and do what you need to do. You are literally swaying on your feet."

"Pushy warlord," grumbled Jack, but he didn't argue. He walked past all of them without another word and disappeared upstairs.

The monk-Chases began to leave the lab, only to stop and turn to face the main computer as the scarred, evil-Chase walked forward with a determined air.

"Young!" snapped the evil and indifferent Chases.

"Brother!" called the monks, and they tensed for battle.

The scarred one ignored them all and touched a panel on the large dashboard of the mammoth computer.

Abruptly, the screen flashed to life with a message:

**NICE TRY, SCAR-FACE. STAND ON THE PRESSURE PLATE AND GET IT OVER WITH!**

The scarred Chase gave a guttural snarl and called Spicer a vulgar name, once, twice, and again.

“Mind your tongue, if you please,” chided the middle-aged monk-warrior.

The angry warlord turned to face the forty-year-old mortal. “I’m not about to take orders from a spineless creature like you who didn’t have the guts to take power when it was offered to you!”

“Oh, certainly – because you’ve done so very well for yourself since then,” replied the monk calmly, and traced a fingertip over his own face in a line mimicking the placement of the scar on the other man’s face.

“ _Enough!_ ”

The furious shout echoed through the room and the scarred dragon-lord froze just as he was about to leap at the monk-Chase.

The Chase that belonged in that reality stepped forward to command attention and glared at all of them when they gathered around him.

“This is precisely _why_ Spicer’s help was necessary in the first place. He has _proven_ he can send you all home. It is _imperative_ that this happens or we will destroy ourselves and the world if we remain together too much longer,” growled Chase. “I _realize_ that we are getting on each other’s nerves. Therefore, it makes more sense for us to simply get this over with so we can spread out for the remainder of your time in this dimension.”

Seeing that they were all in agreement despite their dislike of him and each other, Chase walked over to the pressure plate and stood on it with his arms at his sides.

Instantly, bright green lasers flicked on. Three tiny nozzles on robotic arms lowered from the ceiling, shining the laser light over Chase from head to toe: one from the front and the other two at an angle to his right rear and left rear sides. A moment later it was done, and the screen on the large computer monitor changed from its taunting message to say “Scan Complete.”

Chase stepped off the pressure plate and walked over to inspect the Jackbots’ construction work – amused at the way they all paused to salute him as he approached.

“At ease,” he murmured, and tucked his arms at the small of his back.

“Yes, sir,” they replied in unison and went back to work.

In very short order, the other six Chases had been scanned in and were dispersing.

“I’m going out for another ride since Jack was cool enough to okay my using his toys,” said the motorcyclist with a grin. “Can I drop anyone somewhere?”

“We would like to return to the Xiaolin Temple,” said the middle-aged monk warrior, indicating himself and the two other Good-Chases.

“Cool,” said young mortal. “Here’s hoping we all fit in the Lamborghini.”

The three Good-Chases exchanged concerned glances even as they followed their modern counterpart up the stairs and out of the lab.

The scarred Chase had already left the lab, so only the robed, villainous Chase remained.

He stepped up beside the “original” Chase and watched the Jackbots (who once again saluted) work on the transportation device.

“Have you thought about what I said earlier?” he inquired of his host calmly.

“I have no need to. I know my own mind – as well as my plans for Spicer.”

“Oh…? You actually have plans? Surprise, surprise,” the robed Chase replied with a catty smile.

Chase turned and walked away without another word.

“How rude,” said the alternate, and sighed. “Now… What to do until departure time?”

A smile – wicked and calculating – slipped across his face.

A moment later, he teleported out of the lab.

*~*~*

Jack's skin was gilded with moonlight as it flooded through the windows in the young man's room that stretched from floor to ceiling. The cool light of the full moon easily fell across the bed that held the sleeping genius, and because the covers had been mostly kicked aside, Jack's white skin glowed with a soft radiance that was as blinding as it was charming; giving him the look of some supernatural creature that found its way to Earth simply to take a nap.

The evil, battle-robed, alternate Chase stood by the bed and looked at Jack for several long moments. His first intentions had been to make sure his counterpart in this reality didn’t make the mistake of ignoring Spicer… but then, Jack had grinned at him and Chase had felt his body respond as though electrified.

Had felt that empty, echoing space where his soul used to be tremble as if that long-missing piece of him could feel Jack's presence.

He looked at the broad, young shoulders. Jack wasn't a soldier; didn't find himself in a physical fight nearly every day. His was the build of someone who exercised and ate properly merely to keep themselves healthy. It showed in the defined musculature, but those definitions weren't as acute as Chase's, or Guan's, or any of the monks.

Jack was long and lean; strong, yes, but with a wiry build that spoke of speed and mastery of evasion, rather than head-on confrontations.

Chase smiled slightly; a pained expression, as he thought of his Jack. His own young albino genius had been that way; preferring to side-step or evade rather than face a fight head-on.

He winced as he recalled that last, disastrous fight they'd had; when he had accused the young man of being too cowardly to pull his head out of the sand and face reality head-on.

Jack had done so just to prove him wrong.

Clay Bailey, Dragon of Earth, had sent a stomp-wave of earth careening at the albino genius and Jack… hadn’t moved.

The Earth dragon’s horror hadn't been nearly as powerful as Chase's had been.

Much later, after the last mourners had left the funeral to comfort the grieving Spicer family, Clay had given Chase one miserable look, choked out an apology, and then run away before anyone could stop him.

Chase had been too dead inside to give a damn.

And now... here was Jack, all over again; this young man almost a perfect match to his own lost protégé.

Chase wasn't certain he was strong enough to walk away from this young man. He knew this Jack wasn't "his" – not in the way the other had been. But he knew he could very easily pick up with this one where he'd left off with the other. It wouldn't be the same, but it wouldn't be bad, either.

_Why should I leave him behind?_ he asked himself, watching as Jack rolled over slowly to flop onto his back. One hand, open and lax with sleep, curled and tucked against Jack's forehead while the other hand splayed limply atop the slender young chest.

_Why should I leave him? His Chase has no clue of Jack's value; has no true appreciation for this vibrant young man. If he had, then there wouldn't be this rift between them now. No... there is no reason to leave him behind. He could come with me; rule my world with me. And I will do all in my power to see to it that he never mourns the home he'd leave behind...._

Jack sighed in his sleep and the hand on his chest slipped down, trailing in an unintentionally suggestive move towards his sheet-covered groin.

Chase shivered and arched, just a bit. His mouth opened and he shivered again as he felt the tips of his fangs graze his bottom lip.

He made up his mind, then and there: Jack Spicer would be coming home with him.

Quickly, he stripped off his clothing and armor and carefully climbed into bed with Jack; fitting himself alongside the younger man.

He knew just how he was going to persuade the beautiful genius into accompanying him back home.

*~*~*

Jack's sleeping patterns had changed over the last few years.

It used to be that he'd sleep and sleep and sleep, and then ever-so-sluggishly pull awake and stay in that hazy-dazy half-asleep mode until the first rush of caffeine hit his system.

Nowadays, he would transition instantly: from sleeping to awake in a second.

It happened when he felt something hot and moist approaching his neck. One moment, he was sound asleep; the next, he was wide awake and his hands slammed hard against the shoulders above him and he shoved, pushing the body atop his further away.

He narrowed his eyes angrily. "What the hell are you doing?"

The dragon-lord perched above him smiled lazily. "Easy, Jack... I'm not here to hurt you."

Jack sighed, but didn't relax. "C-2... Are you screwin' around? Tryin' to punk me in my sleep?"

"I'm not a robot, Jack. Try calling me Chase – it _is_ my name."

"No – _my_ world's Chase is 'Chase'. I've gotta keep you guys apart in my head somehow."

"Why is that so important? The others all easily set themselves apart."

Jack looked up at the Chase still kneeling over him, still straddling his body, and shook his head. 

"It's important," he said quietly.

"Because you're afraid you might respond to me the way you would like to respond to _him?_ "

Jack blinked, his eyes going wide.

Chase grinned and shook his head. "We can all see it. Most of us _know_ it, from personal experience, but the simple fact of the matter is, Jack, that you want Chase. Sexually, romantically, intellectually... you want Chase Young. You want him to want _you_."

At that, Jack began struggling, trying to get out from under the dragon-lord pinning him down.

"Jack... Jack!" Chase easily fielded the strikes Jack lashed out with; caught the strong white wrists in his own hands and pressed them down to the bed and leaned until he could meet the younger man's gaze. "Jack, listen to me! It's alright, Jack. I promise: it's _alright_."

Jack glared up at the evil man. "How can it possibly be 'alright'? You just told me that my... my... _admiration_ of Cha— _my_ Chase is flaming obvious! Which means that he doesn't..."

His voice trailed off and Jack slowly relaxed back against his mattress and closed his eyes.

"He doesn't want me."

"If he's anything like the rest of us, he's at the very least _interested_ ," said the Chase atop him, kindly. "But if he has willfully chosen to _not_ take you while he can, then he's a _fool_ ; an _utter_ dunce."

At that, Jack's eyes snapped open, and he stared with frank incredulity at the man above him.

Chase grinned. Leaning down, he nuzzled his nose gently against Jack's, and then moved to begin ghosting feather-light kisses over the younger man's face.

"He's an _idiot_ ," the dragon-lord murmured. "How can he not be: to pass up the chance to take you? To have all that brilliance, all that beauty, all that admiration for himself until the end of time?"

Jack closed his eyes again and shivered at the feel of Chase's thin, warm lips stroking his skin.

"I'm not beautiful," he said with a small smile. "Not like him. I'm... a different kind of beautiful."

"And that is most excellent," replied Chase, and he shifted so he could lick a possessive stripe across Jack's throat. He enjoyed the arch-and-gasp that Spicer gave, and began nipping in between words. "Contrast is _important_ in a relationship, Jack – otherwise it's only masturbation."

Jack sputtered on laughter. When he calmed down, he found that the alternate Chase had released his wrists; had twined his arms beneath him, and now their bodies were pressed together, warm and snug. To make things more comfortable, Jack spread his legs, allowing Chase to drop down between them.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked quietly. "Why not go home to your own—?” 

Suddenly, his eyes widened, and then he winced. “Oh. Oh, yeah… I forgot; sorry.”

Chase shook his head and buried his face in Jack's thick, red hair. "My Jack Spicer is no more. It happened so quickly... I had fully planned to take him and make him mine. He was very similar to you: Brains, beauty, and passion. He admired me, as well. There were a few differences, as there must be to make it an alternate reality from yours, but..."

"Then, I'm only a stand-in?"

Another head shake as Chase pulled back to meet Jack's gaze. "No. I know who you are. I know who he was. No one will ever be able to take his place. I don't want to pretend with you. I do, however, want Jack Spicer. I think we would do very well together."

"Except for the part of you being in a different reality, and I've never been okay with the concept of long-distance dating," said Jack mildly.

Chase laughed. "No, my sarcastic friend – I had thought to ask you to come with me."

Jack went completely still and couldn't tear his gaze from the older man.

Chase smiled understandingly. "I realize it's a weighty invitation, Spicer. I know it's a 'big deal'. But I'm not making this gesture lightly. I want you to come with me; live with me, be with me... forever. I believe we will do well together."

The younger man made a strained noise and looked away. "Oh, sure – that's as good an endorsement as I've ever heard: 'We'll do well together'."

"Would you rather I give you sweet lies? I don't love you, Jack – at least, not yet. I barely _know_ you. But... if you come home with me..." 

He dipped, and began kissing Jack's neck again, slow and sensuously.

"...What? We could learn to love each other?" muttered Jack, even as he tilted his head back to give Chase room.

"Is it so unfathomable a concept – so outside the range of consideration?" 

Chase carefully sucked a bruise to the surface of the white skin of Jack's throat and purred roughly with satisfaction at seeing the mark when he moved to look at it.

Jack shivered. "No... It isn't so strange. Just... you're asking me to give up my _home_."

"And make a new one with _me_."

"But..."

"I know it won't be easy, Jack. In my world, your parents know you are dead and they mourn you. If you were to show yourself to them, you would never have a moment's peace again. Everything else is nearly the same in my world."

"Except that I'd have no finances or property to fall back on should you get tired of me and kick me out. I would be stranded there—“

"I would not have made the offer if I didn't believe we'd have enough in common and enough _not_ in common to make things interesting between us!"

" _What_ in common? So far, what we have is an acknowledgement that I like the idea of having sex with you, and vice versa!"

Chase grinned. Bracing himself up on his hands, he pressed his groin to Jack's, and then _rubbed_ in a slow, deep, sliding stroke that caused the albino man to arch with a strangled shriek. Strong hands, square and callused with blunt fingernails, clawed onto his shoulders; seeking support as Jack's body _surged_ towards the pleasurable sensation.

"Would starting with sex be such a bad idea? It will give us a connection to build on," murmured the dragon-lord, and he stroked again with his hips. He shivered and fought the guttural growl that wanted to burst loose as his arousal strengthened. "I very much want to connect with you, Jack. I want to reduce you to a panting, desperate wreck. I want to open you and get inside you and _fuck_ you until we both come hard enough to pass out."

Jack groaned and pulled on Chase's shoulders; seeking leverage so he could roll and flick his hips up to meet the other man's sliding, thrusting motion. His skin was hot-hot, and he was hard and needy and he wanted to just _have sex_ and _come_ , already!

However....

"If we do this, what does that mean?" he asked, and deliberately tilted and circled his hips in a small motion that made Chase hiss and buck against him. "If I let you have sex with me now, am I agreeing to anything?"

Chase laughed darkly and bent down to kiss Jack deeply, hungrily, until Jack's lips were swollen and pink when the other man pulled away.

"Very intelligent question, Jack – excellent instincts," he growled approvingly. "But, no: In this instance, this is just a bonus; a preview of what you can have with me _if_ you agree."

Jack shuddered hard. He wrapped his legs around Chase's hips, let his own do another slow roll, and when the older man stiffened against him and gave a guttural growl, he laughed wickedly and said, "Then, give me something to think about."

Chase dove in for another kiss. His arms went beneath Jack's torso to hold the younger man tightly against him, and he began to _rock_ , to sway and thrust and stroke Jack's sensitive skin in very creative ways.

The bed became a sweltering sauna as they rutted against each other amid the blankets. They gasped for air between hungry, desperate kisses, and their bodies never stopped moving. The bed squeaked and shook beneath them with every wild, rocking, thrusting motion as they arched and surged together. Bruises and welts were kissed and bitten and scratched onto Jack’s skin, and Jack wrapped his arms around Chase and hung on hard, hung on _tight_ , and he was beginning to make frantic, ascending cries as he climbed towards orgasm—

—and then, Chase was gone; literally torn away from him and out of the bed.

Shocked and shaking, Jack looked around wildly, and was startled to see his maybe-lover lying in a crumpled heap on the other side of the bedroom. The alternate Chase was already climbing up onto his feet, so Jack knew he wasn't hurt, but what startled the young albino genius was that the attacker was _his_ Chase.

_His_ world's Chase, who was poised in a stance that clearly placed him between his alternate self and Jack; settled in a stance that declared he would _kill_ the other man before he would allow their fornication to continue.

There was no time for words. The naked, alternate Chase launched a rushing attack. The fully-clothed Chase didn't dodge, as that would have left Jack vulnerable to the attack. Instead, he met himself head-on and the two of them dissolved into a blurred, whirling mass of fists and feet and fury.

Jack managed to roll onto his side, and then up onto his knees. He could barely think straight because his body was so locked on the need for orgasm. Bracing himself on one hand, he reached down with the other and got a solid grip on his cock. He moaned in lustful desperation and stroked, hard and fast. His hips moved in the instinctive rhythm of fucking, and in only a few strokes, he was coming hard.

Jack dropped down, buried his face in the bedding, and sobbed with relief as he came and came and came.

Wrung out, he wanted nothing more than to curl up and sleep, but he didn't dare – not with two fully enraged and dangerous fighting masters doing their level best to kill each other in his bedroom.

By now, the other Chases were arriving, crowding into the room. They attempted to get close to break up the fight, but they were forced to deflect blows that would have damaged _them_ instead, and retreated back towards the door with frustrated expressions.

Abruptly, two bolts of brilliant green light lanced across the room, striking one combatant and then another.

No sound was made as the two fighters dropped to the ground instantly. They sprawled, limp and inelegant, on the dark-dark blue carpeting; completely unconscious.

The other Chases looked to the source of the light.

Jack – still naked, gleaming with sweat and come and his cock half-hard – was kneeling on his bed and aiming a gun of some sort at the two bodies on the ground.

He looked _furious_.

Slowly, carefully, the three "good" Chases edged forward towards their alternate selves. When it became apparent that Jack wasn't going to continue the attack, they gathered up the unconscious warlords and departed the room quickly.

The indifferent Chase – the civilian – paused long enough to ask Jack, "You okay?"

Jack nodded, but said nothing. He knew that if he opened his mouth, he'd start ranting and he wouldn't stop until he lost his voice.

"Cool." The civilian Chase turned and left the room, already lighting up a cigarette.

The scar-faced evil Chase paused and gave Jack's body a slow perusal. Then, he smirked coldly, blew a lewd kiss to the young man, and left – shutting the door behind him.

Jack dropped the gun to the floor and began punching his pillows into shapeless lumps.

*~*~*~*

A few hours later, after the stunner had worn off, Chase and his doppelganger stood in Jack’s living room, several feet apart from each other. Jack stared at the two Chases and had the absurd feeling that he was the mediator of a playground fight.

"Chase... _this_ world's Chase... I would _really_ like an explanation for that tantrum you threw," Jack said calmly, if a bit coldly.

"Like as you will, Spicer," growled the warlord; "I won't tell you anything."

"There's nothing _to_ tell!" snapped the alternate Chase, once again covered in his own clothes and armor. "Territorial imperative – that's all it was. He doesn't want you, but he's not going to let anyone else poach on his 'turf'."

Jack's eyes narrowed. "Oh, so now I'm 'turf'?"

The alternate Chase wasn't the slightest bit repentant. With a beautiful, arrogantly charming grin, he replied, "You have always belonged to Chase Young in one way or another."

"Yes, he _does_ ," growled Jack's Chase, whirling to face his counterpart, "and that is why I interrupted your rude shenanigans last night! You—“

Jack suddenly started laughing and put his face in his hands.

"Oh, my God," he tittered, his shoulders shaking. "You said 'shenanigans'."

When he looked up, Chase was scowling with sheer frustration at Jack, while the alternate Chase was smirking in a way that meant he didn't understand what was so funny, but he was finding his counterpart's predicament amusing.

Jack cleared his throat and waved the moment of hilarity away. "Never mind. Look, Chase—“ He pointed at the one that belonged in his world. "—you can't just barge in like that. No matter what you _like_ to think, I _don't_ belong to you. You made it clear enough _years_ ago that you _despise_ me; _hate_ my very _existence_. It's why I finally gave up and left you all alone to play your stupid little Shen-Gong-Wu games. So, if I want to fuck a hot guy who just happens to look like you – big deal. Suck it up and get over it."

Chase was across the room in a flash. His hands went around Jack's biceps and gripped tightly. He shook the younger man once, twice, and then pulled Jack close against him until their faces were only inches apart.

"You are _mine_ , Spicer," he snarled, very, very quietly. "I have not invested all this time and patience in waiting for you to lose your childish sense of humor, your infantile way of thinking, only to let you go now. I _waited_ for you to grow up, Jack. And you dare tell me _no?_ "

Jack glared into angry gold eyes. "And I was supposed to know that _how?_ You never told me: 'Hey, Jack! Get over yourself, yo! Straighten up and fly right, and you can get with me all night!'"

Chase rolled his eyes and let go of Jack. He crossed his arms over his chest to grip his own biceps and took a step back.

"One: I would never say such stupid words. Two: I _couldn't_ make you a promise like that."

"If he had, you'd have grown up to be what _you thought_ he'd want, instead of growing up to be yourself," added the alternate Chase. His expression was a little bit distant, a little bit sad as a memory played in his mind. "My Jack had to be led down that same path."

"So? Weren't you at all worried that he would become an adult and decide that maybe he's wasting his time on you?" challenged Jack as he turned to face that warlord.

The original warlord stepped closer; fitted himself against Jack's back, and the younger man went rigid with tension.

"No, Jack," murmured Chase against one white ear. "Despite the estrangement, I know you've kept track of me. I know you're as interested in me now as you were then. The only difference is that you finally have confidence and powerful self-esteem; finally have _pride_ and decorum that prevents you from openly showing it."

"No... No, I—“

The alternate Chase glared and came forward to catch hold of Jack's right arm and began tugging the albino man towards him.

"Don't listen to him, Spicer," snapped the alternate warlord. "He'll say anything to keep you under his thumb."

Jack's Chase caught hold of the young genius' left arm and tugged. "Oh, and you won't do the same to get _your_ way?"

"The difference being is that I'm genuinely _interested_ in Jack! I have _always_ seen his value and planned to make use of it! You yourself said—“

"What matters is that I _have_ seen it! I _know_ what he is capable of; that he is a strong enough man in his own right that he is in no danger of being completely overwhelmed by me! We will be stronger _together_ , playing to each other's strengths and bolstering whatever weaknesses we have!"

"What a _crock!_ " snarled the alternate Chase. "Why not say what you really mean, _nuò fu?_ "

The host Chase paled with the force of his fury. "’Coward’? You call me a _coward?_ "

"If the shoe fits..." taunted the other warlord.

Jack shifted so that he was still between them when they both let go of him and made a motion to step into another fight.

"Whoa! _Hold it!_ " he bellowed, and crossed his hands in the "T" signal for "Time Out."

Both Chases backed away, glaring murderously at each other.

Jack raked his hands through his hair, messing up the thick, red pelt, and sighed roughly. "Why did you call him a coward?"

"Because he will not admit why he doesn't want you to go," said the alternate Chase. His voice was frigid with disapproval. "He is allowing his pride to get in the way – which is fine with me. It only proves that you are better off with me, and not this _zhu tou_."

Jack sighed even as he moved to intercept his world's Chase. 

With his hands pressed against the warlord's chest armor, Jack glanced over his shoulder and said, "I know he's pig-headed, but insulting him right now is _not_ going to get this mess straightened out."

Alternate Chase simply shrugged and crossed his arms over his chest.

Jack turned back to face his own Chase, who was now looking at him. The albino man swallowed and shivered to feel the intensity of the dragon-lord's regard settled entirely on him.

"Chase...? What's going on? Just... just _tell_ me... please?" Jack asked softly.

Chase, looking into the crimson eyes that haunted his dreams, sighed quietly and gave in. There had been – and would be again – times in his life when he'd denied Jack Spicer's demands for many different reasons.

Today: he would give Jack what the young man asked for.

"He is correct," said the warlord, and his voice was low and gravelly with the weight of his admission. "Part of my protest is that my pride will be injured if you turn your back and walk away from me – especially for someone else, even if that someone else is a different 'me'."

Jack nodded silently in understanding.

"The rest of it... _I want you_ , Jack Spicer. That is the plain and simple truth of it. I noticed you when you were fifteen, going on sixteen; took notice of the fact that you were beginning to grow up in both mind and body. But you were at a critical juncture of your life. Had you remained so closely in my domain, your full potential would never have been realized. I thought about it, long and hard. Finally, I decided that I could only have you in an 'all or nothing' way. Either you would be completely my servant... or completely my _partner_."

Chase sighed and shook his head. 

"I _have_ servants. I _want_ a partner."

"So you... drove me away? And I'd become an adult, only slightly influenced by my contact with you...." Jack mused aloud.

Chase nodded. "It was a risk. After all: you might very well have decided that I was more trouble than you were willing to deal with. You might have fallen out of love with me—“

Jack flinched and took a step back, but Chase caught him and pulled him closer.

"No," said the dragon-lord quietly. "There is no harm in this, Jack; no shame. Stand and face the truth."

Jack's jaw clenched, his teeth grinding for a moment, and he looked away. "I don't want to. What happens when I admit it and then it's used against me? I don't want that."

Chase deftly stroked the knuckles of his right hand along the line of Jack's left cheek.

"That won't happen. I want you to remain in love with me. I want all of you devoted to me," he said with a slow smile.

Jack closed his eyes. "What about... you? What will you feel for me?"

"It will be different, perhaps, from yours. Everything about me is done from darkness, Jack – that includes love. Jealous fury, hatred for imagined slights, animalistic need to hold you down and _take_ what I want from you... tempered by passionate pride in you for being mine, for being so brilliant, for being so beautiful – for being _Jack Spicer_."

Jack looked at the older man for a long moment.

Then, sighing, he shook his head slightly and stepped back.

"I can't... I need time to think," he said. "This is all so sudden. I can't decide right now. I _can't_."

Both Chases nodded, even though Jack couldn't see the alternate dragon-lord behind him.

"You have until tomorrow, when the other Chase Youngs are sent back to their worlds," said Jack's Chase. "You must give your answer then."

And with that, both Chases walked out of Jack's room; the two of them calm now that a choice had been presented and a decision would be made.

Jack walked – staggered, more like – over to his armchair-recliner and collapsed into it with a whooshing sigh.

*~*~*~*

The next day, the Good-Chases informed Jack that five of the visitors had consulted with each other and had decided on an extra day to give everyone time to meditate and to speak to whomever they needed to or wanted to before they left.

Faced with an extra 24 hours of “free time,” Jack kept himself sequestered and thought about the pros and cons of staying versus going.

When he arrived to breakfast the next day, it was obvious he hadn't slept well.

All of the Chases made it a point to not watch him overtly. Everyone knew what was at stake, everyone knew Jack was under a tremendous amount of pressure; no one wanted to risk making it worse.

Breakfast was finished and the good-Chases helped do the kitchen clean-up. Then, all belongings were gathered, and everyone assembled in Jack's workshop down in the basement.

The old time machine had been re-worked splendidly and now sat gleaming beneath the overhead lights; power set to standby mode on the giant metal ring.

Jack pressed a button on the large computer bank that functioned as his work station. The massive flatscreen lit up with a diagram.

"All of you were scanned at some point or another during the last few days, as you'll recall," he said. "That's because each person carries a special biorhythm that matches them to their plane of existence. I won't bore you with the intricate and vast amounts of math and science entailed. All you need to know is that the machine is set and ready to go, and can easily locate your realities and send you back. There is a tracking program in the computer that works with the transportation device to help lock onto your reality. Once you step on that pressure plate in front of the machine, the scanners will read your biorhythm and you'll be matched to your reality. The tracking program will then let us know when you've arrived home safely."

All of the Chases nodded, but strangely, it was the indifferent one that stepped forward first.

"It's been real, kid, but I wanna get back to my own stompin' grounds," said the modern, mortal version of Chase Young.

Behind him, the others all winced at his syntax.

Jack nodded. "Stand on the plate."

The civilian Chase walked over to stand on the square pressure plate and set his feet into the impressions shaped like footprints.

A hum filled the air. Immediately, the activation and tracking program flashed onto the screen. A slowly circling wheel that represented the waiting machine hung in the upper left corner. Various data graphs and schematics took up the rest of the screen. In the middle was a Chase-shaped silhouette wearing the clothing the man standing on the pressure plate wore.

Abruptly, the graphs stopped moving, locked on a specific graph, and the icon in the upper left hand corner suddenly glowed red in the middle at the same time the machine itself formed a bright, sizzling red energy field in the middle of the massive ring.

"Your reality is found; the tracking program has a lock on that dimension as well as you. Walk through and you're gone," said Jack.

The civilian Chase nodded once. He looked back over his shoulder and flashed a sloppy, sideways "peace" sign at his counterparts, and received nods in return.

Then, bravely, the man walked forward off the pressure plate, up onto the low platform that held the portal device, and walked through the red screen – vanishing instantly.

Everyone looked to the flatscreen monitor. The Chase-shaped silhouette faded into several pixelated dots until it was gone completely. The graphs reset themselves back to zero and the icon went back to standby mode while a small green square flashed into the middle of the screen where the silhouette had been.

"He made it," said Jack. "Who's next?"

The scar-faced wicked Chase stepped forward immediately onto the pressure plate. He never said a word or made a gesture. As soon as he heard Jack's "Link established," he walked forward and disappeared.

The green square appeared only a few moments later.

Swiftly, the good-Chases took their leave, bowing their thanks to Jack for all of his help. In the space of six minutes, all three of them were shipped off home safely to their respective realities.

That left only Jack, his world's Chase, and the far-too-similar alternate Chase.

"So..." he said, and scratched slowly at the back of his head. His sweatshirt rode up a bit, exposing the smooth flesh of his belly.

"What is your decision, Spicer?" asked that world's Chase quietly.

Jack paced in front of his computer for several moments.

Finally, he stopped and turned to face them both.

"I'm... I'm staying," he said, in a rush. He watched a look of subtle relief fill the gold eyes of his world's Chase, while the alternate Chase's face tightened with anger and regret. "I'm sorry – I know you wanted me to go, but this is my _home_. This is where _my_ life is. Whether he keeps me or not... this is where _this_ Jack Spicer belongs. I know I've disappointed you, but... you asked me to make a choice. This is it. I'm staying."

Chase moved a few steps away from his alternate counterpart. He saw Jack tense, but he kept his distance, knowing the young man was twitchy with nerves, and smiled.

"I plan to keep you," he said firmly. "I want no one else except you, Jack."

Red eyes looked with grateful adoration at the warlord – but subtly; with a calm, adult mannerism that pleased Chase to no end.

The alternate Chase sighed and slowly nodded. "You are certain?"

"Yes," said Jack quietly. 

And that was it: no explanation, no justification. He was sure of his decision, end of song.

"Very well. I regret it must be like this," said the alternate Chase. "I really don't want to lose you."

Jack offered a hesitant grin. " _A_ Chase Young hasn't – if that helps any."

The warlord gave a grim smirk, and then moved to the pressure plate.

Jack turned to the computer to monitor the linkage progress.

And when he said "Link established," the alternate Chase's hand shot out in a flash.

Magic connected, and Jack was yanked swiftly to the waiting dragon-lord, who immediately leaped with all due haste towards the portal even as Jack screamed in ragged denial.

They were perhaps five centimeters away from the red screen when Chase landed on top of them, driving his doppelganger into the ground face-first. The instant his counterpart had said his final words, Chase had _known_ what the other man intended. The instant his alternate self had moved, he had leaped up high and forward, knowing what was about to happen.

His trajectory had been perfect.

Now, he tore Jack free from the other Chase and flung the albino genius away. The alternate spun up onto his feet, roaring in his rage—

—A spin-kick that spun the alternate around to face the screen impacted with the man's jaw.

A moment later, a forward roundhouse kick that connected with the alternate Chase's back sent the frantic and furious warlord flying through the portal – his enraged scream of denial disappearing the moment he dissolved.

The dots had just barely finished disappearing on the screen when the entire computer station was melted into slag at the same time the portal machine was hit with more of Chase's magical fire.

Jack was gaping wide-eyed at the destruction of his machines from where he lay propped up on one hip and one elbow.

"But... he might not have made it back yet!" he protested instinctively.

Abruptly, Chase was crouched down before him. Large hands caught Jack by the shoulders and drew the twenty-year-old up into a half-sitting, half-kneeling position. Jack cried out as he felt himself bruise instantly from the biting pressure from the strong fingers gripping him.

"I would _prefer it_ had he not arrived safely!" snarled Chase. "Then would I know he was _gone_ , forever, with no chance of finding a way back here to steal you away from me as he tried to do only moments ago!"

Jack gasped and winced. "Are you... are you so sure he'd do that?"

Chase growled. "If it were I in his stead, I would stop at nothing to get you back, Spicer. Had you left: I would have come after you."

Jack's eyes widened.

Any questions or comments he might have had were interrupted as Chase pressed him back down to the floor and wrapped around him; keeping him safely pinioned as he kissed the albino genius, deeply and lustfully.

When the kiss finally broke, both of them were breathing hard but secure in the knowledge that they were both where they really belonged. 

Jack nuzzled his face against Chase's and made a rough sound that might have resembled a purr.

"I love you," he confessed, almost whispering the words. "I don't want just _any_ Chase... I want _you_. I love you. I wasn't going to leave – even if you had changed your mind."

"No chance of that, my Jack," said Chase with a grin. His voice was deep, drawling, and sensual. "There is no turning back now – you belong to _me_."

Jack snickered. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

The End!


End file.
